


It Was Fun

by shieldings



Category: DCU, Teen Titans (Animated Series), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Control Issues, Denial, Dependency, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Sexual Abuse, POV First Person, Rating May Change, Self-Hatred, canon divergent as of aftershock part 1, slade/terra is a bAD PAIRING and i don't condone it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6083214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shieldings/pseuds/shieldings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adrenaline feels nice.  It's a fact of biology.  It doesn't matter where it's coming from.</p><p>Terra knows this.  She can handle pretty much anything if she just thinks about the physical aspects of it.  That's why she's been able to become so strong.</p><p>Pain, fear, and self-loathing can feel good if you really want them to.  Terra really, really wants them to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, I'm a little obsessed with Terra. I feel like her character was incredibly complicated, and it could have used a lot more exploring in-show. There's also a terrifying shortage of non-smut-focused Terra fanfiction. I had to get my fix, guys.  
> There's a brief reference to the sexual aspect of the Slade/Terra relationship. That's a warning, because their whole dynamic is skeevy and predatory as hell.  
>  **UPDATED as of 03/14/2016**  
>  Okay, the plot bunny wouldn't leave so I updated. For clarity's sake, I kind of brought the Slade/Terra situation more into the open. Ugh I feel dirty. I changed it from gen to m/f , because the BBTerra intensifies.  
> long story short i suck

I've won. That's what's happened just now; I've won. I've followed my Master's orders, and everything has gone exactly according to plan. Jump City is ours, and the Teen Titans are history. I'm strong, incredibly strong, strong enough to mold and twist asphalt as if it were clay. I'm not hungry anymore. I know what my future holds (I'll follow my Master's orders, and everything will go exactly according to plan). By all accounts, I should be happy.

 

So why do I want to throw up?

 

“You've done well,” he says, putting a gloved hand on my shoulder. I shiver with pleasure. For some reason, lately, praise has been like a drug to me.

 

“I'm just looking forward to seeing what happens next,” I say.

 

The city is beautiful. I want to believe that it's beautiful. It's my work, after all. Maybe it's some kind of modern art; the kind in museums, that exists just because. I look for a pattern in the overturned cars, the deep gashes in the asphalt and the half-crumpled office buildings. Maybe, if I look at it from the right angle, the way that Titans Tower has slanted and buckled will become something to be proud of, instead of something that will keep me up at night.

 

 _He'll fix it_ , I think. _You can't rule a broken city. He'll find a way._

–

I was playing make-believe, I think. I wanted desperately to be a hero, so I pretended to be one. Every earthquake, every mudslide, every injury and every collapsed building, they all happened because I wanted to be a hero so bad. I think I did more harm as a hero than a villain, actually.

 

When I was little, so little that I didn't even live in a desert, I saw heroes on TV. You know the ones; the ones with spandex and muscles and big smiles who rescue people from burning buildings and hang out in space. I thought I might actually be like that some day, believe it or not! Before I started collapsing, I mean. I thought that someone like me, someone really, _really_ good at throwing rocks, could maybe become a hero.

 

I'm not going to pretend that what I'm doing isn't horrible. I'm also not going to pretend that I'm not having fun. Exertion makes my heart pound, it pushes anxious thoughts from my head, and each torn muscle is healed until it's stronger. Pain brings endorphins, fear brings adrenaline, and even shame is a little pleasurable if I think about it in the right way. I like being horrible. I was never supposed to be a hero.

 

...I liked being a hero, though. I was soft, and weak, and pathetic. But, sometimes, before I made a mistake and ruined everything, people would say my name like a prayer. One time, I kissed a baby. It was awesome.

 

Nobody wants a killer to kiss their babies, and I can't really blame them for that. I have enough right now. I'm not hungry anymore. I'm in complete control of my own powers. If I were a hero, right now, I'd be one of the big ones, maybe. The Justice League would knock on my door and ask if I wanted to join (even though I'm small and stupid and cowardly, they'd maybe look past that because they're heroes, and they're the closest things to gods that we have). And I'd say “yes,” and I'd go with them and become braver and stronger than ever, and they'd praise me and say that I was a good kid, and they'd-- they'd...

 

I don't want to be a hero. I'm a traitor and a coward and a pervert and a freak. A hero like that would do more harm than good. This is just _easier_.

 

In the end, I took the path of least resistance. I know that I'm a coward. I know that I'm pathetic.

 

I'm so happy.

–

_The Teen Titans were super cool, I thought. I was easy to impress; the fact that they were nice to me was enough to make me adore them. Also, they lived inside of a letter. It takes guts to live inside of a letter._

 

_I liked Raven a lot, actually. She didn't like me, but I liked her. She just seemed so controlled. Every one of her movements was so precise, and she always spoke clearly and calmly, and she even ate neatly. I even saw her smile a couple of times; when she didn't know I was looking, I mean. Beast Boy said something goofy and she grinned for a split second before going all stone-faced again._

 

_I wish she'd never started to trust me. With the others, I felt guilty for taking advantage of their naivety. Even Robin, who'd been a little skeptical, was pretty easy to fool. Raven had taken what felt like forever. It was concentrated effort on my part to become her friend, or at least not be seen as a threat. I felt so proud and happy when she finally showed me that smile of hers!_

 

_I was thinking about that smile when I slammed her into the ground, repeatedly, with wave after wave of mud. I sure showed her. I showed her that I wasn't worth trusting. I laughed. There was dirt in my mouth. I kept laughing._

–

It's been a couple of days now. We haven't seen the Titans. At all. Crime is rampant, as you'd expect. Even the silly villains who have themed attacks and colorful costumes are doing surprisingly well (I guess the cops aren't enough, haha). My Master is still sending me on petty errands; “Get this, Terra. I need you to find this chip, Terra. There's a good girl.”

 

I honestly don't know what my relationship to him is. Sometimes, he talks to me like he's my boss, or maybe my teacher. That's most of the time, actually. It's not a bad feeling. He's always clear in his instructions, and he only punishes me when I mess up.

 

Sometimes, he talks to me like I'm his daughter. When that happens, it takes a moment to register. There's affection in his voice. He's proud of me. I've grown, he says. I'm getting stronger. Soon, we'll be in control of the next city over, and then the next one. I'm a good kid. The praise is intoxicating. I lean against him; I crave physical contact.

 

When he's angry, he's kind of scary. That's a good thing. If he weren't scary, he wouldn't be in control. Control is the most important thing, I think. He's strong, too. One time, I thought he'd broken one of my ribs! We checked over later, and it was just bruised. I'd overreacted a little. He patched me up pretty well, too.

 

I'm probably the luckiest person in Jump City.

 

The only thing I don't really like about him is when he takes off his mask. When he does that, it's like he becomes a combination of all those things I was just talking about, with something more. Without the mask, he's real, if that makes sense. He's an adult man, with graying hair and a ruined eye and very large hands.

 

Adult men are heavy, when they're on top of you.

–

“ _Are you okay?” Beast Boy asked. I forced out a laugh._

 

“ _Of course I'm okay!” I said. “I'm just wondering when dinner is."_

 

“ _It's 10 AM.”_

 

“ _Oops.” I sprawled out luxuriously across the couch. I made an effort to look casual. He ate it up._

 

“ _Do you wanna play something?” he gestured at the GameStation._

 

“ _Hands are sore,” I said. “Too many rocks.”_

 

_He sat down next to me. His body weight bent the cushion. “You seem upset,” he said. “Not-- I mean, if you're upset, you can just tell me.”_

 

“ _When I'm upset, I like to be alone,” I said. “If I were upset, I wouldn't be here with you right now.”_

 

_He still didn't look convinced, but he picked up the controller anyway. I decided to take a moment to stare at him (he wouldn't notice; he was in the zone)._

 

_He was so soft-looking. I mean, it was crazy. I didn't think boys could look cuddly like that. He was all twiggy and baby-faced and I maybe liked him a little bit. At first, I was just a little put off by how green he was, but I got used to it. He said that it was because of his blood. He has green blood. He's super-cool._

 

_I mean, not now. Now, he's the enemy. And he's probably dead._

 

_Anyway, I also liked his teeth. They were mostly normal, but the pointy ones were amazing. I wondered if they ever made it hard to talk. What happened when he bit his tongue? Did it hurt? I kind of wanted to poke my finger with the tip of one of his teeth. I never asked to do that, because you don't just go up to a guy and ask to stick your fingers in his mouth. That would be weird._

 

_His hair was all short and fuzzy, too. It stuck out at weird angles without him even having to try (I'd wondered at first, because of the time I caught Robin getting ready in the morning. He put a lot of effort into those spikes). He laughed really easily, he looked at me like I was an angel, and he never smacked me in the face, even when I was being annoying. He was nice. When people are nice, I'm a pushover._

_..._

_After he figured out what I was, he looked so betrayed. I think he might have cried a little. I tried not to look too hard._

–

“Is something bothering you, child?” he asks when I come back with the power cell (robot armies need a lot of electricity, believe it or not).

 

“I'm thinking about the Titans,” I say, keeping my expression as neutral as possible. “I'm not sure they're dead.”

 

“Don't underestimate your own abilities,” he says. “It keeps you from focusing.”

 

“It's not that... It's just, they were strong. I've fought beside them before. They don't go down easily--”

 

“You think I don't know that, Terra?”

 

“Of-- of course not!” I stare at my feet. I hope my tone of voice is appropriately deferential. “I'm just worried--”

 

“If you put your all into fighting them, you shouldn't worry,” he says in a voice so calm that it's almost menacing. “Of course, if you held back, that's another story.”

 

“I didn't. They would have killed me if I'd held back.” They probably would have, all things considered.

 

“Good girl.” I wish that I could read his face through that mask.

–

_Fighting my old friends was really fun. I had to kind of psych myself up for it, but I did pretty well in the end._

 

 _I thought of all the ways they'd wronged me. I needed to hate them. If I didn't hate them, I would fail. I took a deep breath and combed my memories for pain and humiliation. I remembered the suspicious looks from Robin and Raven, and the way that they all stared at me every time there was the_ slightest _seismic event. Cyborg always called me “kiddo,” which was pretty condescending when I thought about it for long enough. Beast Boy made up a version of me in his head that I couldn't live up to._

 

_Starfire... hadn't done anything wrong. She'd only ever been kind to me; even the bruises were by accident; she didn't know her own strength. I chalked it up to immaturity. She was older that I was (probably; she had hips), and she acted like a child. A child shouldn't have that much power. A child shouldn't be strong enough to kill people and wreck buildings without even--_

 

_I was strong. Incredibly strong. Strong enough to make the city my plaything. That wasn't what I was there to do, though. I was there to give the city to my Master, Slade. I was a child, small and stupid and confused. But I had high goals, and that was enough._

 

_I recited those wrongdoings in my head. I made myself nice and angry, which made my heart beat faster, which made everything about me hot and shaking and not quite afraid. I focused on the texture of my gloves, the itch from the communicator in my ear. I was going to be okay. I knew what I was doing. I didn't need saving._

 

 _I tried not to look at their faces for too long at a time. Instead, I paid attention to my own signals. I loved the weight of the asphalt above my hands, and the taste of iron in the back of my mouth. I focused on the gestures of my opponents; not so much on who they were, but more on_ what _they were. My palpitating heart meant I was excited. The way my back hurt meant I was pushing myself. The grin plastered across my face meant I was having an amazing time!_

 

“ _You always were easy to fool,” I said before I blasted Starfire with 2000 pounds of asphalt. A stupid prank that Beast Boy and I had pulled the week before flashed in my head. We'd replaced her shampoo with food dye. It had come right out, but she'd been really upset. She thought she was sick. We made her a cake to apologize._

 

_I wasn't supposed to be thinking about that!_

 

_Robin was fun to train with. Even though he didn't have any superpowers, he always kept me on my toes. He said it was because of his mentor; I wanted to say, “my mentor does a pretty good job, too” but I figured that would be a bad idea. Instead, I just asked who his mentor was. He was like, “don't you watch the news?” and I was all, “my cave didn't get cable,” and he was all, “mine did.”_

 

_If I thought of fighting him like I thought of training with him, it was pretty tolerable. Since he wore a mask, I didn't have to look him in the eye. I focused on suspicion and condescension and accidental rudeness. He had been kind of right, but he shouldn't have been! He shouldn't have been, I liked him, I'd wanted him to be my friend, so why hadn't he trusted me? I trusted him! I slept while he was in the room! If that's not a sign of trust, I don't..._

 

 _Disgusting, disgusting,_ disgusting!

 

_I kept throwing rocks. Throwing rocks was what I was good at._

–

I'm hardly ever alone anymore, actually. I don't mind that. I've spent enough time alone to know that I don't like it. My Master is with me always, either in person or through the electrodes hooked up to my nervous system. He knows my body temperature, my pulse, and my blood pressure. It's safest and most efficient this way.

 

Most of the people in the city have evacuated. We didn't try to stop them. I mean, we'll keep on spreading out from here, right? If they move on to the next city, we'll take that one too. They can't get away from us. We're everywhere. It's their destiny; my Master being in complete control is the only possible ending.

 

I'm not worried about the future. I know who I am now. I feel good about myself, I think. Fighting is fun. In a physiological sense, it's fun. I love being told that I've done well, and I love that I don't have to worry about sneezing and setting off an earthquake. My life is perfect.

 

So why can't I stop crying?

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terra does her job, and has an unpleasant time in general.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so anyway I caved in and updated.  
> As a note, I'm kind of playing around with a balance between the comic and cartoon verses, because there are aspects of both that I like and dislike. This Terra is obviously more like the one in the show, because she's needy and paranoid and has very poor judgment and whatnot, but I really love mean pissy comic Terra so idk

_Beast Boy printed out a bunch of getting-to-know-you question sheets at the public library (Robin wouldn't share his printer; he said it was for official business only). He wanted everybody to fill one out, but only Starfire and Cyborg would make the time for it. Robin was too busy, and Raven said it was stupid._

 

“ _You know, when we all first got together, we did some of these,” he said, reaching for a pencil. “I just made up answers to most of the questions.” He slides a sheet of paper across the table to me._

 

“ _Was it weird at first? Living with everybody?” I asked._

 

“ _I already knew Robin, and that made it a lot easier.” He paused for a second. “I did get homesick, I guess. I called my big sister almost every day. I think working in a big group makes the transition easier, though.”_

 

“ _Hey, do you guys know each others secret identities?” It was a stupid question. I shouldn't have asked it._

 

“ _Robin's the only one here who has a real secret identity. Even I don't know it; I've seen him without the costume, but he always wears sunglasses and he refuses to tell anybody his real name.”_

 

“ _He used to work for Batman, right?” I'd looked him up after he'd been so startled that I didn't know who his mentor was. I'd heard of Batman, of course; he was one of the Justice League biggies. I'd kind of forgotten that he had a sidekick (sidekicks are never as interesting as originals)._

 

“ _Don't phrase it that way, he'll blow his stack.” Beast Boy finished his question sheet with a flourish and slid it across the table to me. “They were partners. I think they still might be, because he's always calling him.” I couldn't read Beast Boy's handwriting, but I didn't say anything. I hadn't even started mine. I grinned nervously at him before getting to work._

 

  1. _Do you have any dreams or aspirations?_

  2. _Where did you go to elementary school?_

  3. _If you could have any superpower, which would you choose?_

  4. _Do you have any pets?_

  5. _What's your favorite hobby?_




 

_All of the questions were incredibly lame. I squinted at Beast Boy's version, hoping to get some inspiration._

  1. _...cool... dogs... moped_

  2. _homeschool_

  3. _already got one ;)_

  4. _I'm my pets_

  5. _online gaming turnaments_




 

_Okay, so I didn't have to get deep or anything. I answered pretty similarly, I think:_

  1. _be a big-time hero_

  2. _had a tutor with my brother_

  3. _haha_

  4. _one time I caught a lizard but she got away_

  5. _rocks_




 

_They were basic and inoffensive. That was the goal; I had to give off basic, inoffensive image if I wanted to pass for a good guy. I handed him my paper, and he grabbed it a little too eagerly._

 

“ _Your answers are terrible,” he said. He didn't say it in a mean way, but it was still rude. “Guess we need to do the next one.”_

 

“ _You suck at flirting,” Cyborg called from the next room._

–

City Hall is on fire. Nobody's really sure who started it, and nobody really cares. The few civilians left in the city watch it burn, slack-jawed. Petty thieves run off with petty artifacts, and colorful villains loop and cackle and do all of the things that villains do. My Master strokes my head as we watch from the top of a skyscraper.

 

“It's satisfying, isn't it?” he asks.

 

“Will there ever be order again?”

 

“They'll pick each other off. That's when we'll be in full control.” He twists a lock of my hair around his finger.

 

The Titans are actually gone. If they were alive, they'd be stopping all this. I'm not sure how I feel; I should be satisfied, right? 

 

“I caught that guy,” I say, pointing at one of the frantic criminals on the street below. “I tossed him right into the back of a police van.”

 

“He'll tell his associates that you're strong. That's good.” He pauses for a moment. “You're building a name for yourself, Terra.”

 

“I'd be nothing without you.”

 

“That's right.” He keeps petting my head, like I'm a cat or a rabbit or something.

 

He insists that we share a bed in tonight's motel room.

 

I don't really enjoy what we do, but I appreciate having another heartbeat close to mine.

–

_Cyborg and Starfire flipped a coin to see who would make dinner. Secretly, I hoped Cy would win. I wasn't picky, and glork was actually pretty okay, but Starfire used weird ingredients. She'd definitely want to go grocery shopping before she started to cook, and she'd definitely get distracted at the supermarket, and dinner would definitely be at 9:30 PM._

 

_I was supposed to meet Slade at 9:30 PM. I couldn't be in two places at once, so I hoped that Cyborg would win. I also hoped that Cyborg would win because he never used grubs. Star was too creative, sometimes._

 

_I shuffled through the stack of questionnaires Beast Boy had given me the day before. All of them were equally vapid, although some of them had cute clipart._

 

_Who was your role model growing up?_

_What's your favorite ice cream flavor?_

_Have you ever broken a bone?_

 

_Not really anybody, vanilla, and yes. There. Every single one of these questions could be answered in a sentence, and most of the answers could have belonged to anybody. I didn't understand why Beast Boy wanted me to fill these out._

 

_ To tell the truth, I was mostly just confused. I wasn't sure whether or not these people were my friends. They weren't  _ supposed _ to be my friends. That would get in the way of everything. But, if I hadn't come with ulterior motives and fake confidence, would they have still wanted me on the team? I honestly had no idea. _

 

_ I knew that, with fully realized powers, I was an asset. If nothing else, I was useful. But what if I'd swallowed my pride and gone back to them before Slade took me in? Would they have wanted  _ that _ Terra, the pathetic sniffling destructive one? If they did, then why? _

 

_ Starfire won the coin toss. She clasped her hands together and said something about a traditional florbeck stew. Beast Boy wanted to know if florbecks were vegetarian, and Starfire said that they were almost meat, but not really. Nobody was pleased. _

 

_I said I was on my period and opted out of dinner. Raven looked kind of suspicious, but she always looked suspicious (it might have been because that was the third week in a row I pulled the period card). Nobody else picked up on it._

 

_You know, I really enjoyed playing at being a hero, but I still got excited whenever I saw him. He was an adult, and he was proud of me, after all. I'm addicted to positive responses. We met in the cave I'd been staying in before I met the Titans. It still had all my old stuff laid out there (a VHS without a player, a picnic blanket, and, of course, my trusty flashlight)._

 

_He asked me about their daily routines. I crouched on a rock and talked about Cyborg and Star's coin flips, Beast Boy's questionnaires, and Robin's workout regime. Slade seemed pleased. Because he was happy, I was ecstatic. He wanted to know about the layout of the tower. I drew a little picture in the dirt. He said that I was a good girl and he didn't know what he'd do without me._

 

_When I got back to the tower, I was glowing with happiness._

–

Even without my armor, I'm still clothed, in a sense. The first time I put it on, a web of delicate wires latched itself onto my skin. They're barely noticeable for the most part, but when I start thinking about them they kind of itch. Sometimes they spark a little when there's a strain on them.

 

My armor is heavy, but I don't like not wearing it either. My wires react to being touched. I think about questionnaires. The sensation of another heartbeat. I think about the color of the fire at City Hall, the color of Raven's four eyes. I feel as though I'm imploding (like a cave-in, like a cave-in in a mine south of Gotham that I  _ruined_ , haha). I think about all the things I've destroyed, all the people maimed or dead because of me, I think about--

 

As soon as he he finishes, I get up, stumble into the bathroom, and take a shower. It's part of our routine at this point, and if I follow routine, I don't get anxious. My wires are supposed to be waterproof, but they still spark and fizz.

 

I can't stop thinking about the city. Its entire visage has changed over these past few weeks; what used to be colorful and full of life is now chaotic and smeared with ash and tar. It's my fault. It's beautiful. I want to hide.

 

I'm the reason my friends are gone (I never had any friends to start with). I'll be alone forever (except for him, which I can handle, because the dynamic is clear). I'm terrified for my future (even though it's incredibly clear).

 

I don't think I'll ever be an adult. I'll always be small and weak and pathetic and cowardly. Gross.

 

I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to take this...

–

_We beat Mad Mod in half an hour and went out for ice cream. Beast Boy got shaved ice, and Star wanted to know why there wasn't any mustard at the toppings bar._

 

_I think I might have been happier than I ever was in my life._

 

_I'd never really had any friends before. Just knowing that there was a group of people who were willing to spend time with me made me feel all bubbly inside, like a rootbeer float. Like sparking wires. I don't want to think about sparking wires._

 

_I learned a lot while working with the Titans. Some of those lessons were kind of predictable (pay attention to your teammates or else you're toast, never turn your back to a laser gun), but others were strange and unexpected. Did you know that superheroes use sock glue to keep their masks in place? I didn't. Fun facts._

 

_I also learned a lot while working with Slade. I think I might have learned more, even though we only met at night. He taught me that I had to think of myself as my own enemy. Aching muscles were an active, malicious attempt to slow me down, and my lack of coordination was sabotage. My enemy was always watching, and I had to think quicker than she did. It was incredibly stressful, but it did the trick._

 

_Anyway, we all had ice cream and went back to the tower and watched horror movies. Starfire wanted to know if humans really had that much blood in them, and Beast Boy, completely straight-faced, told her that they did. Robin tried to leave halfway through the second stabbing, but Raven magicked him back into his seat. Cyborg fell asleep on him. I wondered if this was how most people lived, or if the Titans were unique._

 

_I wished that they'd stop being so nice to me. They made it so hard for me to hate them, and I really, really, really wanted to hate them. I wanted them to make fun of me, or ignore me, or even hit me. Anything that would give me a proper excuse to hate them! But it was all friendship and pizza and bad puns with them, so I was at a complete loss._

–

The next morning my muscles ache (a malicious attempt to slow me down). The air drifting through broken window smells like smoke, but it's cold. The ash is yesterday's leftovers.

 

We wake up at the same time, without an alarm. Without looking at each other, we slide off our separate sides of the bed. I focus silently on my armor; the bandages take longer than they should, but I need them. The fabric softens the charge between the metal plates of my armor and the wires on my skin; without them, I'd be at a risk for electrocution.

 

My inner thigh smarts when I touch it, but I ignore it. Pain without adrenaline is useless. The bandages are smooth and familiar. The breastplate clacks satisfyingly as the two halves of it lock together. My hair feels strangely heavy, but that might just be because of a pulled muscle in my neck.

 

“Terra,” Slade says. “You're quieter than usual today. Is something bothering you?”

 

It takes a second to register. “I've got some sore spots,” I say. “Nothing a stretch won't fix.”

 

I want to hide. For some reason, I want to find a small, confined space and hide in it for an undefined amount of time.

 

“Humans really don't have that much blood in them,” I say out loud. “There's a lot more solid stuff in there than we give them credit for.”

 

He just nods.

 

I place my hand on the windowsill; when a shard of glass cuts my finger, I realize that I've forgotten to put on my gloves. A bit of red bubbles on my forefinger; that's irony, right? Instead of going to the sink to clean it up, I just put my finger in my mouth and keep feeling anxious.

 

I think about the time I was in a tube, back when I was too small to fight. I think about the sensation of intravenous needles and chemical suspensions. I think about my brother. What's he doing right now? If he knew what I was doing, would he be proud of me?

 

It doesn't matter now, because I've become incredibly strong. I'm in control, and control is what matters, whether it's control of my body or the temperature of the room or other people's bodies or maybe their temperatures (haha).

 

I want to hide, I want to hide, I want to _hide!_ Why is sweat pouring down my face so early in the morning? What triggered this? I want to find whatever caused this and stop it, because I don't like it and I shouldn't have to deal with this anymore, not now, not now that I'm so strong that I can control myself and my body is my own (I think) and I am older, and I am not in a tube, and _GOD_ somebody come and help me!

 

I breathe in the cold smoke. I see the charred remains of City Hall through the window. The looters are gone now. Even with the police as compromised as they are, a lot of criminals don't feel comfortable working in daylight yet.

 

This is the beginning of a criminal empire, I think. On my own, I'm weak and pathetic and disgusting and useless but with him I am more than the sum of our parts (if that makes sense?). Of course it doesn't make sense when I put it like that, but whatever. I'm fine.

 

He sends me out to check on the southwestern corner of the city. I pull up a hunk of asphalt and jump straight out the window. For a second, my focus wavers and my ride tilts. I'm able to regain control, but it makes me nervous. I don't want to fail after all this time; I mean, then I'd have sacrificed everything to gain nothing.

 

I anchor my feet and start moving. The wind in my face feels nice. I want to empty my mind for a minute, just a little while, to cool down.

 

It's funny, you know. A few months ago, I would have been satisfied with not being destructive anymore. Now, I'm letting myself get all frazzled over some dumbasses that I hardly knew and a slightly handsy boss. I mean, that's nothing compared to being a walking WMD, right?

 

I just wish that their faces would stop showing up in my dreams. I wish that I didn't think, “wow, Beast Boy would love this!” every time I heard a rainbow crook spit out a bad pun. I wish that I didn't miss weird alien ingredients and movie night and Cyborg's deep reassuring voice and Raven's rare smiles and--

 

I also wish that my lower body didn't hurt so much. I mean, adults do this stuff all the time, right? So there probably shouldn't be so much bruising. I wish I had another girl to talk to about this. Somehow I get the feeling that it wouldn't help much, but it would be nice.

 

As a matter of fact, only having one person to talk to is incredibly stressful! I mean, I guess Wintergreen shows up sometimes. But not when we're busy like this, wandering between quadrants and monitoring the activity. And even when we're back at the base, it's awkward. He makes small talk sometimes, but I never know what to say. I don't quite know who he is, or what his relationship to Slade is. I'm not sure he knows what mine is, so I probably don't have the right to ask!

 

...And once again, I'm wondering about my relationship with my Master. If I'm an apprentice, then I should graduate someday, right? When my training is over. I don't think that's ever going to happen. If he's just my boss, then he's overly friendly, right? And we spend too much time together. We definitely spend more time in direct contact with each other than we do on separate missions. If it was a father-daughter kind of relationship, it would almost make sense. He's always correcting me on my stance, my grammar, and my lifestyle choices. He feeds me and clothes me and does all of that guardian stuff.

 

But that doesn't make sense, because of the sex. I'm saying explicitly, now: I'm having sex with him, or he's having sex with me or something, because I'm never sure what I'm supposed to do. Maybe like twice a week he tells me to take my clothes off so I do, and he does his thing, with all the grabbing and the biting and whatnot.

  
I really shouldn't mind, but I do. I understand that I'm lucky. It freaks me out is all. I don't like how visceral it is. It's all damp heat and clammy skin and strange noises and I do not like it a bit, but it's one of those things you just don't talk about. And he takes off his mask, and that makes him human, human with a mouth and an eye and it is _terrifying._

 

I've become so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I don't notice the office building. I hit it at maybe thirty miles an hour, enough to throw me off my rock and through a window. Luckily, the window is open. I skid across a desk and knock over a printer and a cup of day-old coffee. Nobody's there to see my mistake (not many people have been coming into work lately, what with the crime levels being so high). I take a moment for my head to stop spinning.

 

There's an inspirational poster on the wall across from me: “Teamwork!” it announces. One dog is standing on another dog. I guess that's teamwork.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm proud of you for getting through that  
> bury me in sheep manure and use me to grow corn to feed the starving children


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terra thinks about romance, and has an unexpected encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, the great Madame Bullshit, present you with another chapter of this travesty

_Beast Boy and me went ice skating. It cost five dollars each to go into the rink, and we just had quarters, so the cashier got kind of pissed at us. But it was ten dollars worth of quarters, so we got in anyway._

 

_I've got kind of big feet, so I wound up renting a pair of boy's hockey skates. When I was a little kid, my brother told me that they meant I would get really tall someday. Now, I think that they're just there to look dumb._

 

_Anyway, he didn't even bother to rent skates, he just turned into a penguin and strutted right into the rink. Everybody stared, which was nice, because they weren't watching me repeatedly fall over. I only damaged a little bit of the concrete when I lost my balance, so I was proud of myself._

 

_We bought overpriced cocoa from the stand by the rental place. He insisted on soymilk, like a dingus, but the lady didn't up the price because of “all the good that you kids do.” I think that might be a perk of not having a real secret identity (haha)._

 

 _Anyway, that lady got me thinking. We really were public figures, weren't we? If we did anything in public, everybody knew. And we were_ positive _public figures. A kid at the rink had a doll that looked just like Starfire. I wondered if it was legal to make dolls of real people, and if Star knew about it. Then I realized that I was being stupid, because it wasn't any of my business to think about being honest with her because for GOD'S sake I sent a photograph of her room to Slade._

 

_I asked to taste Beast Boy's cocoa; I'd never actually tried soymilk._

 

_That was an indirect kiss. Neat._

 

_Say, an indirect kiss is basically when your mouth touches something somebody else's mouth has, right? Like with the cocoa. But does that apply to people? If you kiss somebody, then you kiss somebody else, does that mean that they've kissed each other?_

 

_That would be really bad. I mean, that would be next-level bad. Poor Beast Boy. Well, poor Gar, I guess._

 

_He told me his real name. It wasn't a secret or anything, but it wasn't something people talked about. Now that he was green and all, a superhero name suited him better. And since he couldn't really hide his birth name, he just dumped it. Except he didn't. Because he told me._

 

_He said, “Hey, Terra, do you want to hear something funny?”_

 

_And I said, “Yeah,” and I took another sip of his cocoa._

 

 _He said, “My parents named me Garfield” and I snorted because Garfield was a silly name, and then my heart skipped a beat, because Garfield was_ his _name._

 

“ _My name is Tara,” I said, because it just felt right._

 

“ _I knew that,” he said._

 

“ _No, with just one R.” I gave him his cup back. “Tara Markov.”_

 

“ _Why'd you pick a hero name that sounded just like your normal one?”_

 

“ _I didn't pick it. And even if I did, I'm not sure I'd be able to avoid it. It's too perfect, you know?”_

 

“ _I guess.”_

 

_We sat quietly by the skate rental stand for some time. His hand wandered into mine. There was something strangely intimate about names, something that made me feel shivery and mystical. I felt really blessed, in that moment._

 

_Except, here's the thing: it only took a few minutes for Slade to wheedle that name out of me. It just took a few choice words, a hand on my shoulder, and a penetrating stare for me to defile that moment at the ice rink. After that, names didn't feel quite so special anymore._

–

I've got my wits back and this quadrant is pretty quiet. I glide smoothly down the street on my levitated boulder. A woman sees me and holds her baby closer. I think about “all the good you kids do.” I wonder if she was one of the people who cheered when we all stopped that robbery back on Main Street (Star actually lifted the mugger up and put him on top of a telephone pole. She was very upset).

 

“What are you looking at?” I ask. The woman doesn't answer, but the baby starts crying. I keep moving.

 

The light at the crosswalk on 34th street is busted, but that's okay, because nobody's paying attention to the lights anyway. There aren't really enough cars for traffic to be an issue. For a second, I think I see a gaudy cape billowing around a corner. I check, but nobody's there (save for a couple of very dead sewer rats).

 

I wonder how long it will be until people from outside the city decide to interfere. The JLA, maybe, or some new group of vigilantes, or hell, even the government. What if the president shows up? What if the president says, “this has to end now?” Wow, that would be something. What if he says, “Tara Markov must be stopped?”

 

I'm not supposed to interfere with anything that doesn't put our control of the city in jeopardy. This means that I'm probably not allowed to chuck a rock at the dude yelling about legs to the lady on Perez Avenue. But, it's not really superhero business, right? So it should be okay. I don't do anything, because I'm a coward. The lady goes into a drugstore and the guy shrugs it off and pulls out a box of cigarettes.

 

One time, the local PTA called us to do a lecture about drugs and alcohol for the kids at the middle school. It was pretty awkward, because most of us were clueless about that stuff ourselves. Robin knew the most, probably, because he's a nerd. The only reason it wasn't a total failure was because he called in this ex-addict buddy of his who told a sob story and did some trick shooting with a compact bow, which was pretty rad.

 

I think there might be people living at the docks. There are a few ships idling there, since trade has been stalled for the past few days. I hear whispers coming from them. I almost decide to investigate, but the idea of secret whispering boat-dwellers freaks me out. I'll report on it later.

 

From here, I can see where the Tower used to be; or, where it still is. It's tilted and crumbly, like the cake Beast Boy and me made to apologize to Starfire when we dyed her hair pink. That's my fault, or maybe my achievement? It was a final act to prove that I was loyal. The Titans were gone, so I wrecked what was left of them. I saw the effects of my work through the windows; the TV shattered, and Robin's evidence collection fell through its door into the hallway. There were a lot of different masks, but they got all jumbled up and disorganized.

 

“You,” somebody says as I turn away from the docks.

 

“Me,” I answer, because I'm not sure what else to say. I turn around cautiously to face the speaker.

 

“Are you happy?” the speaker asks. Her cloak is flapping wildly in the ocean wind; her teeth are clenched.

 

“Happy as I'll ever be,” I say. “You're supposed to be dead, you know.”

 

“I'm surprisingly resilient.” Her hood falls back, revealing a pretty face framed by dark hair. She smiles bitterly.

 

“Go away, Raven.” Her calm tone of voice is making me nervous. “Just go back to where you came from, and I won't tell anyone that I saw you.”

 

“You can tell anybody you want,” she says. “Tell your boss, if you like.”

 

“You'll be dead soon enough, witch.” I narrow my eyes. “No matter how tough you are, you won't be able to handle us alone.”

 

“No, I probably could,” she shrugs. “But I'm not alone.”

 

“Stop bluffing.” I lower myself to the ground. I reach for a particularly dense-looking chunk of marble (that statue never stood a chance).

 

“You're not that great at killing, Terra. You never bother to double-check your work.” Raven's soul-self envelopes her; she phases right through the pier.

 

I know now that I should definitely investigate the boats, but I don't (I'm a coward, after all). In my gut, I know that _they're_ in them, watching me and shaking their heads. I move on to the next block of town; I think I hear a gunshot, but maybe it was just a firecracker. I'm not really sure of anything at this point.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rae is Fucking Pissed  
> (TVMA)  
> Also say hello to the JUNKIE ward, because I couldn't resist it, okay  
> If you read those anti-drug specials from the 80s Roy just comes in and gives a speech about drugs and everybod ycries and it's a disaster and i'm actually starting to laugh out loud at 2am because of this fucking disaster of a boy


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terra gets in trouble, thinks about secret identities, and goes on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Physical abuse warning for this chapter!
> 
> Anyway, I'm back from the shadows, and I brought some suffering.

“Everything's clear,” I say. “The southwestern quadrant is as peaceful as it can possibly be.”

 

“Are you certain?” he asks, standing up from his work (the table in the corner of the motel room is covered with maps).

 

“Absolutely.” I swallow. “There was a situation with an unruly pedestrian on Perez Avenue, but it worked itself out without interference.” That kind of language doesn't feel natural to me. How should I be speaking?

 

He reaches forward and cups my cheek in his hand. “I'm proud of you,” he says. “You used to be so unsure.”

 

“I-- I try, Master.” I swallow again. Why does it feel like there's something stuck in my throat? “It's all thanks to you.”

 

“Is it?” he asks, lifting up a lock of my hair.

 

“Of course. Without you, I'd still be-- I'd be with those do-gooders, you know?”

 

“Yes, yes you would be.” He drops the hair. He slaps me across the face. The impact sends me reeling backwards into the minifridge. “Oh, wait. You still _are_ with them.”

 

“What are you talking about?” I splutter. I know what he's talking about! Why am I making it worse?

 

“Little girl, do you think I don't check the security cameras?”

 

“If you-- if I-- but--” My head is spinning. “Why do you send me out if there are cameras?”

 

“You told me that you'd killed all of them,” he says, stepping forward. “And I believed you.”

 

“I thought I had!” I struggle to regain my footing. He grips my breastplate and lifts me off the ground. “I thought I'd finished her off, honest! I--”

 

“Even if that were true, it wouldn't have mattered,” he says. “You met her today, and you didn't tell me.”

 

“I'd have told you!” my feet are dangling. I suppress the urge to kick wildly. “I'd have told you if you'd given me another minute!”

 

“That's a pity,” he says. “Because you didn't.”

–

_Starfire really wanted me and Raven to get along. She kept on trying to make us do stuff together, like watch chick flicks and go birdwatching and DIY group therapy._

 

“ _It is of vital importance for friends to take part in light entertainment together,” she would say, in a comically serious voice._

 

“ _That's fine,” Raven would answer, “because she's not my friend.”_

 

“ _When's lunch?” I would add._

 

_One time, the three of us went to the mall together. Star insisted that we wear civvies, because she wanted to just go as friends instead of as Titans._

 

_Did you know that Raven wears nothing but wool when she's not in uniform? Like, wool sweater, ankle-length wool skirt, wool socks, wool scarf, you get the picture. It was April! Apparently, she gets cold easily._

 

_In the open area, somebody was talking to a bunch of kids about conservation. She had a green parrot on her shoulder that cackled on cue. It made me think of Gar, and how I'd betrayed him. Starfire grabbed my hand and dragged me up to the wishing fountain._

 

“ _Human tradition says that you must pay this faucet to give you luck,” she said. Raven snorted. “I suggest that we all participate.”_

 

_I didn't have any change on me, so I used the cap from a soda bottle. I wished that I would stop feeling so damn guilty. Starfire used some sort of money I didn't recognize, and Raven just magicked a quarter out of the fountain and tossed it back in._

 

_I wondered what they'd wished for, but I decided not to ask. I mean, I didn't want them to know what I wanted, so it would be selfish to ask them. Instead, I asked Starfire if we could get something to eat, because it's rude to talk with your mouth full._

 

_We got crepes from a stand by a sports shoe store, and Starfire bummed some tartar sauce packets off a burger-flipper at the McDonalds. I don't think she realized that she was flirting with him, but she looked so happy after getting her tartar sauce that I didn't want to tell her._

 

_I wondered if this was something that normal kids did a lot; I saw plenty of people my age at the mall, so it probably was. I thought about the girls from drugstore magazines and daytime dramas. They did this kind of thing a lot, probably. They had shiny fingernails and a lot of friends. Girls in magazines were pretty carefree, for the most part. They worried about boys not liking them, but they didn't spend a lot of time imagining what they'd do when they inevitably killed those boys._

 

_I'd never eaten crepes before. They were pretty good._

–

He helps me patch myself up; he says that it was necessary, but I'm still his apprentice and it's his duty to stick with me. I'm not sure whether I'm grateful or scared. I mean, he was the one who busted me up, so why is he acting like it was some kind of unstoppable natural force? He always does this. He always gets so weirdly nice after he's mad at me.

 

When I get doted on like this, it almost makes the bruises worth it.

 

“She was mad,” I say, pressing the ice pack to my black eye. “She was _really_ mad.”

 

“She was mad because she'd lost to you before. They're petty.”

 

“I think if I see her again, she'll kill me.”

 

“Not if you get to her first.” He pats the swiveling desk chair. I move from my spot on top of the minifridge with a groan. “You need to stop holding back, Terra.”

 

I know what he means. I've never intentionally killed anybody (I mean, earthquakes kind of counted, but those were never on purpose and I felt gross afterwards). If I was going to be a worthwhile apprentice, I had to learn how to grit my teeth and get it over with.

 

“I'm not even sure she can be killed,” I say. “There's something... not normal about her. Her eyes.”

 

“Nobody is immortal. She has a weak spot somewhere, and you need to exploit it.” He ruffles my hair affectionately.

 

“I guess.” I'm still not certain, but I've never won an argument with him, so there's no point.

 

I think about Raven, and how the other Titans are probably hiding in a boat somewhere whispering and planning. I think about that look on her face, the way her lip curled when she spoke. I think about her eyes. They didn't change when she saw me on the dock, but they still looked deadly. Narrowed and steely and sleepless. If she wanted to, Raven could absolutely kill me.

 

Maybe I'd let her. That way, I wouldn't have to deal with all this messy business anymore.

 

I have another patrol just after sunset. The city is recovering, kind of. A convenience store down the street has reopened, and a bum throws a beer can at me. I ignore it, because to be honest, if I were him I'd throw a beer can at me too.

 

I walk right past him and go into the store. The zitty cashier turns paper-white when he sees me. I glare at him, because that's my job. There's an old TV on the counter by the register, angled towards the stool where the cashier sits. A police sketch of Slade and me is plastered across the screen. I'm a lot cuter than I am in real life.

 

“Reign of Terror,” says the text at the bottom. The confident anchorman is saying something, but the sound is off. “Hot Debate: Should We Send Help?” I shake my head. Don't send help. I wouldn't be able to handle it.

 

I grab an individually-wrapped chocolate truffle from the basket by the register. I pay with a handful of quarters (probably too many; I didn't check) and pop it into my mouth. I hop onto my rock and start my rounds.

 

The bank has been cleaned out, which is kind of hilarious, considering that there aren't many places left to spend money. City Hall is charred and eerily silent. The residential areas are pretty calm, despite the recent chaos. Most of the richer citizens have made a run for it, but the lower class people aren't really in a much worse situation than they were in before (I mean, apart from the schools closing and the crime rates skyrocketing). A kid starts crying when he sees me. That makes the second one today; I wonder if this is going to be a regular thing.

 

A sewer grate has been pushed aside; I think about this story I overheard in a diner once, about an underground city of mole children. I think it was supposed to be scary, but it sounded kind of romantic to me. You know, a bunch of kids who didn't fit in with society, supporting each other and keeping secrets, them against the world. That kind of a deal.

 

I wonder if there are mole kids in the sewer. If there are, I'll leave them alone. They've probably been through enough already.

–

“ _Does this mean we're going out?” Gar asked after our date at the ice rink._

 

“ _I-- I guess.” I grabbed his hand. We were waiting for the bus, which felt like a nice, mundane thing to do. “If we're going out, then you have to get me stuff. You have to get me free food.”_

 

“ _Fair enough.” Then he kissed me. Not on the mouth or anything, not even on the cheek. He kissed me on the chin. Maybe it was just because he was short, or maybe it was some move he learned in a book or something, but it was_ super embarrassing.

 

“ _Gross,” I said. It was the only thing I could think to say._

 

_He deflated, and I felt like the scum of the earth. “Sorry,” he said. “I should have asked.”_

 

“ _Don't apologize!” I said. “Never apologize!” I said. That was stupid, because sometimes he did actual obnoxious things and had to apologize for them. Then, because I was an idiot,_ I _kissed_ him, _right on the mouth. It was maybe half a second long and both of our mouths were closed, but it was still kind of a big deal, I think._

 

“ _I think that definitely means we're going out,” he said. I nodded curtly._

 

“ _We're going out. You're my boyfriend.” I paused for a second. “Gross.”_

 

“ _Gross,” he agreed._

 

_The bus was too crowded for us to sit next to each other, but he kept on making faces at me so that was almost as good._

–

“Hey! Hey, you!” somebody yells. I spin around to face the speaker; I've never seen him before. He's a man in his late thirties, wearing a scuffed-up dress jacket.

 

“What do you want?” I say, cautiously lowering myself to the ground.

 

“I just wanted to thank you,” he says.

 

“What the fuck are you thanking me for?”

 

“You'll make this city great.” He makes a vague gesture. “The government was corrupt as hell anyway, so you're an improvement.”

 

“You're welcome,” I say, even though he's not making any sense. Jump City had a surprisingly good government before I showed up, with relatively honest politicians and a police force that hardly ever did cover-ups.

 

“Oh, right,” he says, as though he's just remembered something. “Also tell your boss-- tell Slade that Andy Thomas of Easiclean has always supported him.” He tugs his tie. “Even when the other shopkeepers protested, see?”

 

“I don't think I will,” I say as I rise into the air on my chunk of road. “He doesn't like suck-ups, you know.”

 

The patrol goes smoothly after that. Slade and I are going back to the main base, since there's not much of a risk of the cops finding out where it is now, considering that most of them are either hiding or dead.

 

“Some drycleaner wanted me to kiss your ass for him,” I say, shoving a handful of dirty socks into my backpack.

 

“Language.”

 

“Sorry. Anyway, you're like, the king of the city or something now, aren't you?”

 

“In crude terms, yes.” We leave the room, and don't bother closing the door behind us. I mean, we got in without a key, so does it really matter?

 

“You used to be a mercenary, right?” I think about the name I read in an old newspaper clipping in Robin's room: “Deathstroke the Terminator.”

 

“I outgrew it.”

 

“I guess you never stop learning.”

–

“ _Hey, Robin.” He started when I spoke, and pricked himself with a sewing needle (he was repairing his vest)._

 

“ _What's the problem?” he asked, pulling a band-aid out of a compartment in his belt without even looking._

 

“ _It's not a problem, really,” I said, joining him on the sofa. “I was wondering about hero stuff.”_

 

“ _If you want help with your powers, go to Raven or Starfire. I'm no good with that.”_

 

“ _I was wondering about secret identities,” I said. “And what to do with them.”_

 

“ _What is there to be confused about? They're identities that you keep secret.”_

 

“ _You're the only person on the team who's actually got one.” I twiddled my thumbs. “But it seems like real names are kind of a big deal around here.”_

 

“ _Where are you going with this?”_

 

“ _It's just that, like, I've seen you guys sleeping. I saw you throw up one time, and I've seen Cyborg's insides, and all that, but I don't actually know your names.” I was doing my job. It was normal. I didn't feel bad._

 

“ _Secret identities are sensitive information, Terra.” He turned the vest inside out to check his work. “If you knew my real name, it be easy for you to find out Batman's name, too.”_

 

“ _I know that!” I was starting to feel a little defensive, even though he was right. “It's just weird that we spend so much time together, but we hardly know anything about each others' lives. I mean, pre-superhero lives.”_

 

“ _Curiosity killed the cat.”_

 

“ _Satisfaction brought it back.”_

 

“ _Go check the junk drawer for thimbles,” he said._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this silly headcanon that all of the Batfamily know how to sew. I mean, when you're off fighting crime, I bet your clothes get pretty torn up.
> 
> Since Robin is the most experienced of the Titans, he gets stuck fixing everybody's costumes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terra thinks about family, science, and TV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty short!  
> I've been going through some nasty mental health stuff and I got a job putting papers into a scanner and taking papers out of a scanner and putting papers into a scanner and taking papers out of a scanner for eight hours so I'm kinda slacking on writing lol  
> As a note, always write angry political side notes on your surveys, it doesn't change the results but it's a nice change of pace for us poor clerical proles

“Who were you before you became Deathstroke?” I ask. We're walking down Main Street like a pair of plain old civilians. The plain old civilians are watching through apartment windows.

 

“It doesn't matter.” He looks straight ahead.

 

“Why did you go back to your old name?” I have to jog a little to keep up with him. His legs are way longer than mine.

 

“Terra, some questions are better left unasked.”

 

I'm a little jealous, maybe. I'm jealous of people who have more than one identity, who get to be more than one person at a time. It seems like a luxury rather than a burden.

 

I've flowed seamlessly between selves, with no choice about who I get to be. I was born Tara Markov, bastard, guinea pig, and family embarrassment. Once I came to this country, I was just Terra, pathetically weak and dangerously destructive at the same time.

 

It's like no matter what I do or who I become, I can't win.

 

The realization that I can't win is incredibly freeing.

 

I'm doing just fine.

 

I sigh and keep jogging.

 

It looks like there's a crew trying to fix up the damage to City Hall. Does this mean that the government is working again? I hope not. If the government's working again, that means that the cops'll come after us, and he might be able to get away, but I'm not that smart.

–

_It was usually pretty loud in the Tower, but after a long patrol, everything got kind of quiet and sluggish. Sometimes two or three of us would come back at odd hours, too tired to do anything productive, but too jazzed up from crime-fighting to sleep. On those kinds of nights, we'd just flop over on the sofa and watch reruns of old TV shows._

 

_Starfire liked shows with beautiful twenty-somethings who lived in apartments and had dramatic love triangles. Frankly, I never saw the appeal. The makeout scenes made me squeamish, and I kept on forgetting the characters' names. Starfire ate it up, though. More than once, she asked me if that was how adults on Earth actually lived. I just shrugged, because it definitely didn't look like anything I'd seen before._

 

_Me, I was into sitcoms. It's embarrassing to admit it, but I liked the really old ones, the black-and-white ones. They were even further removed from reality than Star's dramas, but the cheerful music and the hat-wearing dads with fishing poles and life advice were somehow strangely comforting._

 

_I remember one night when the two of us stumbled into the ops in the light of gray predawn, dehydrated and covered in nicks and bruises. She let me pick, since she'd picked after our last patrol. I pretended to lose the remote, so we were stuck on the oldies channel. The kid on the TV tried to hide a raccoon in his bedroom. He pretended it was a toy when his mom came in to vaccuum._

 

 _...My mom was American, you know. She got paid a shitload of money to keep me a secret, but news travels fast in small countries. It was a mess. In the end, she sent me to live with my father and Brion and Gregor, but everybody knew that I wasn't_ supposed _to be in the castle. Hell, I wasn't even supposed to be around. Nothing ruins a family's image like a surprise bastard, you know?_

 

_Anyway, mom stuff is weird for me. But, then again, most stuff is weird for me, so it's not a big deal. Haha._

–

William Randolph Wintergreen doesn't approve of me. He always makes this _face._ I wanna shave his mustache while he sleeps, but somehow I think that wouldn't go over well with Slade. I still snort a little when I think about Will's stupid bald head with a stupid bald face.

 

I remember that when I first came to the base, it was really scary. Everything was so big, and metallic, and full of lava. Now, it's almost home. It's still big and metallic and full of lava, but now that it's familiar, the heat is comforting and the iron smell is kind of nice. I guess it hasn't even been that long since I first started working with Slade (six months, at the very most), but it feels like it's been years.

 

In a way, this is my base as well as his. In a way, this is my garbage city as well as his garbage city, and that makes all the people my garbage people. I'm like trash royalty.

 

That's not actually that big a change from before. Go me, I guess.

 

Every time I see uncovered lava, I want to touch it. I know it will burn off my skin and my blood will get all bubbly and gross, but if I still want to touch lava. I know that I can manipulate it. That was one of the first things we tested when I started my apprenticeship. If I can move it with my mind, maybe I can touch it. Not for too long, but just, like, poke it. With my index finger, to see if it acts like putty or snot or something.

 

“Terra.” I snap out of my reverie.

 

“I wasn't doing anything,” I say out of instinct.

 

“You haven't been yourself lately,” he says. “Something is bothering you.”

 

 

–

_I got my powers like two years before my brother got his. I was the prototype; the royal scientists had noticed our family had the capacity to develop powers. It would require some genetic alterations and a lot of physical stress, but it was definitely possible. Now that I'm older and I can use a computer, I know that's called a meta-gene._

 

_See, it's too risky to test that stuff on real children. What kind of a royal family puts their media darling sons through traumatic, unnecessary medical procedures just because they can? I mean, sure, having a family of metahumans is a great bragging point. A king who can tear down buildings with his bare hands is pretty scary to a potential invader._

 

_Markovia was not a strong country, but with a strong leader, it could be a superpower (haha). But it would be a pretty bad idea to risk accidentally killing that powerful leader with an untested chemical cocktail, right?_

 

_Lucky thing they had a disposable meta-gene carrier._

 

_Tests and trials hurt, especially when you're little and don't know what they're about. When you're older and understand what's going on, everything is a lot less scary. Because I was there for the first run, Brion was able to get his powers with far fewer consequences. He was in control from the start._

 

_Gregor never got anything, because he was too old to start. I've heard stories about adults developing powers (genetic ones, without any magic or destiny stuff involved), but it's pretty rare, I think. Maybe superpowers are like talking: if you don't figure them out before a certain point, you never will._

 

_Because I'm bitter (I've always been bitter), I was angry at Brion at first. I didn't understand why he never hurt himself when he moved earth, or why he got to fly and appear on TV. After all, I'd started first, so I should have been the important one (was what I thought). I pouted at him with all my might; I stomped my feet and wailed at him and he patted me on the back and did the things kids do when other kids throw tantrums._

 

_I stopped being angry after a while, but I stayed bitter. Bitterness suits me._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When your office boss people talk to you about politics and history you smile and nod and think of all the Nightwing Merchandise (TM) you're going to buy with the ScannerMoney they're paying you  
> I Wish I Was Able to Tell If People Are Being Ironic When They Passionately Defend the Confederacy


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terra talks to a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about the erratic spacing!  
> I have been the Princess of Having Too Many Things to Do lately. I've got both big school and big personal projects I'm working on, and finals week is creeping up on my sorry ass. Also I've been trying to have a social life bc apparently having friends is good for you or something lol
> 
> Anyway, have more of this sad angry rock baby

I don't know why nighttime smells the way it does. Smoky and damp and forlorn. Maybe I'm just tired.

 

I'm perched on top of the ruins of City Hall. I'm supposed to be patrolling, but my feet are sore and it's quiet out anyway. I've had a rough couple of days, and I think I've probably earned a few minutes of down time. I know I'm being watched, but I don't really care. I'm never alone, after all.

 

“I know you're here,” I say. I don't say the name of whoever is here, because I don't actually know that.

 

Starfire cautiously steps out from behind what used to be a pillar (is it still a pillar if it isn't supporting anything?). My gut jolts. I know that I won't be allowed to let her go.

 

“I have been waiting for you,” she says after taking a deep breath. “Raven told me about meeting you before.”

 

“Why aren't you dead?” I ask. I know why she isn't dead. She isn't dead because I suck at my job.

 

“I am... stronger than I look.” She takes a step forward. I clench my fists. “I do not want to fight.” She raises her open palms: a universal peace gesture. I kind of want to laugh.

 

“If you haven't noticed, I'm not really big on compromises,” I say.

 

“I still consider you to be my friend,” she says. There is no warmth in her voice. “That will never change.”

 

I lunge forward, dragging charred pieces of City Hall behind me. She knocks me backward in a blast of green light. Her eyebrows are tense and low, and her lips are pressed tightly together. She's holding back. There is no release in her posture.

 

“Real-- real friendly,” I cough.

 

“Come with me,” she says. She slowly advances toward me, a dangerous glow in her eyes. “You do not have to do this,” she says.

 

“Screw you,” I spit. A bit of blood drips from my mouth onto the stone. I realize I've bitten through my lip. I stand shakily, dragging the ground up with me.

 

Before I can make a move, she blasts me with another bolt. She's closer now, and it hits harder. My back slams into the pillar, knocking the wind out of me. A jutting rock hits me right in a bruise from the other night, and I see fireworks when I blink. For some reason, this is funny.

 

“You are not happy,” she says. She kneels in front of me, delicately, completely unscathed.

 

“But I'm in control,” I say. I try to push myself up on my elbows, but I fall backwards. My breath is shaky and uneven. She's staring at me with those big eyes, and that solemness in her face has melted away. She looks... worried. Or maybe sad.

 

In a desperate vie for the upper hand, I punch her in the face. Her head snaps back, and when she looks at me again, there's a mark on her face. It will definitely leave a bruise, I note with some satisfaction.

 

She leans down, as if she wants to embrace me. “Terra, I am so sorry,” she says into my ear.

 

She jabs a needle in my arm. The interface in my wires reacts immediately, a series of short, brief jolts. It's trying to keep me awake, I realize. It doesn't seem to be working.

 

“Is this your plan?” I ask. “Roofie me and drag me back to the sewer you're hiding in?”

 

She looks confused. “It is not a sewer,” she says.

 

“Screw you,” I say again. I can feel the sedative taking hold, and I'm not feeling creative. It's a strong one. Usually intramuscular injections take longer, so maybe she hit a vein (but that would need a different formula, so how--). At least I've got air this time, I muse. At least I don't have to breathe through a tube. At least I know basically what's going to happen when I wake up.

  
The fuzzy blackness is creeping in around the edges of my vision, and my last thought is “He's gonna be pissed.”

–

“ _You're not supposed to eat the cup, Star.”_

 

“ _It is crunchy and good. It will not harm me, correct?”_

 

“ _I mean-- I guess,” I said. We were sitting on a park bench, airing ourselves out after an underwater mission (too much time in a sub can make you stir-crazy). Starfire hadn't tried frozen lemonade, so I thought I'd treat her. I probably should have realized she'd be more interested in the cup._

 

“ _Human children are strange,” she said. A pair of small girls were rolling around in the mud while their mothers chatted obliviously. “They are... unstructured.”_

 

“ _What do you mean? Kids are supposed to play.”_

 

“ _Yes, but this play does not seem to have any purpose. Does the mud-rolling teach them anything?”_

 

_A younger boy wandered up to the two mud-children. They dragged him in with them, like little sharks. He looked horrified for a second, before joining in whatever game they were playing._

 

“ _They're making friends, maybe? It's like, social bonding.”_

 

“ _I see.” Starfire stretched her long legs and finished off her styrofoam cup. “When my sister and I were young, we would play war games.”_

 

“ _War games?”_

 

“ _Yes. We would be warriors together. One of us would be a palace guard, and the other would be an invader.” She smiled wistfully. “My sister was larger, and she won more often, so I was usually the outsider.”_

 

“ _Your planet was just one big country, right?”_

 

“ _There are not enough of us to make more than one,” she said. “My people are the only people of Tamaran.”_

 

“ _But you still had wars, with other planets.”_

 

“ _And we loved them.” There was a strange look on her face, a sort of dark nostalgia. “I know that on Earth, it is different. But Tamaraneans must love what we do, or else we fail. When there is peace, we are gentle. But when there is war, we revel in bloodshed.” She folded her hands on her skirt-- she was still so delicate and pretty, despite the things she was saying. “If we hated war, we would not be here. The Citadel would have devoured us.”_

 

“ _Law of the jungle,” I said._

 

“ _Tamaran does have many of those,” she responded. She smiled, suddenly all sunshine and puppies again. “Our forests are vast and bountiful.” She stood, and offered me a hand. “Come, I shall show you pictures back at the Tower.”_

 

_I took her hand. It was warm and dry and calloused, with fingers slightly longer than the palm. I knew that those hands had probably done terrifying things (hell, I'd seen them do terrifying things). I also knew that she was a pure soul, and I was sure that if she found out about me, she'd never smile at me like that again._

 

_Having friends was nice, but I had to keep my priorities in order. I couldn't let myself get attached, even as I smiled back at her._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would die for starfire


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terra does some eavesdropping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who is emotionally and mentally exhausted because of college
> 
> answer: this sorry bitch right here. me. i'm the sorry bitch

“What do we do now?” someone asks. My head is throbbing, but it's familiar. It's the left-overs from a day of testing, probably. Usually a new compound will hurt a little at first.

 

“She's still dangerous,” someone else answers. “We have to be prepared for anything when she wakes up.”

 

“I don't think she's gonna be much of a threat,” yet another person says. “She was pretty badly off _before_ Star wailed on her.” There's a bit of a pause. “I think you broke her rib.”

 

“I am sorry. Next time I will be more cautious.”

 

“Any tracers on her?”

 

“Star found one on her suit, and she had a chip in her arm, but I didn't find any others.”

 

“And those ones?”

 

“I wasn't sure what to do with them, so me and Gar took them out to the middle school parking lot and blew 'em up.”

 

“That works.”

 

I'm arguing with myself inside my head. I'm about 95% sure I'm back with the Titans, and this isn't some kind of stress-induced hallucination. If I open my eyes, they'll probably notice I'm awake. I know that if they notice, they probably won't kill me. They wouldn't have gone to the trouble of checking my injuries if they were, and it's not their style anyway.

 

They know I'm a threat. That's good. Can't have them underestimating me. Or, wait, maybe it's good if they underestimate me? Because that way I can catch them off-guard. If I do catch them off-guard, what do I do next?

 

My head still hurts. It's probably a hangover from the sedative-cocktail that Star pumped me full of, but it might be stress. So much stress. Yay.

 

Maybe I should just fake a coma or something. Wait until he shows up. But my tracers are gone, so maybe he won't? That would be a change of pace. Maybe he thinks I got blown up in the middle school parking lot (would he think that? Does that happen a lot?).

 

Which middle school?

 

I try to keep my face relaxed. My foot itches, and the more I try to ignore it the worse it gets.

 

“Raven, can you keep an eye on her? I need to check and see if the phone towers are working again.” That's Robin, I think.

 

“Roger that,” Raven says. She sounds distracted, but she always does so it's not a big deal, probably. I think. My foot is killing me. What would happen if I just sat up right now? Like, really fast? Whiplash-fast? Would she freak out? Would she get pissed? She'd get pissed, probably.

 

I make my decision.

 

“Hey,” I say.

 

Before I can even open my eyes, I feel her magic wrapping around me, pinning my arms to my sides and pressing me into the mattress. I suppress the automatic panic that comes with constraint as well as I can.

 

“Hello,” she answers curtly.

 

“Where am I?” I ask. My throat feels awful, as though I've been eating paper.

 

“Wouldn't you like to know.” I open my eyes and I see her sitting right by my side, hovering with her legs crossed.

  
“Can you let go of me?” I ask, gesturing with my chin at the sheet of shimmering black covering my entire body.

 

“Can I? Yes. Will I? No.”

 

“You're being kind of difficult,” I say.

 

“You tried to bury me alive,” she says.

 

Fair enough. “How's Starfire?” I ask.

 

“She's fine.”

 

“Cyborg?”

 

“Also fine. He blew up your trackers.” Raven is staring at me, her face completely still and calm. It's as though she's a cat and I'm a mouse: she's waiting for me to blink first so she can make her move.

 

“Wires,” I say. “He'll trace the signal.”

 

“Cyborg has scramblers all over the place. It'll take him a couple days to find us, and we'll have moved by then.” She allows herself the slightest smirk. “You're not getting rescued, Terra.”

 

“ _Thank God,”_ I almost say. Instead, I just grin back at her, as smugly as I can muster. “Glad you feel good about the situation.”

 

“Well, you've proved yourself incompetent plenty of times, so we can count on you being unable to escape. And the city is too chaotic right now for anybody to conduct a thorough search, so Slade isn't going to find you anytime soon, either.”

 

“Kicked your ass, witch.”

 

She nods genially, but doesn't say anything. She keeps staring. I wonder if her eyes have dried out yet.

 

“When he finds out about this place, it's gonna get torn to shreds. You'll be buried in the rubble,” I say. I can't seem to get under her skin. It's annoying.

 

“And what's he going to think of you, if he comes? You've gotten yourself captured. If I wanted to, I could torture you until you told me his secrets.”

 

“You wouldn't,” I say. Her calm face is really starting to freak me out. “And I wouldn't tell, either.”

 

“I'm not sure about that,” she says. “If I were Slade, I'd pay close attention to you. You're a good liar.”

 

“So?”

 

“That means he has to suspect you even when everything points to your telling the truth. He knows you too well to trust you.” Raven blinks. I guess her eyes did dry out. “He likes you because you're a little turncoat, but that's also what's going to do you in.”

 

I feel a bit sick. I hadn't even considered that before. Just as I'm about to open my mouth to say something to her (probably something rude and defensive, but it's justified), someone knocks.

 

“Is she awake?” Robin asks, a little muffled by the wood of the door.

 

“She's up.” Robin steps into the room and Raven releases her hold on me. Her magic leaves behind a sensation like pins and needles in all my limbs (although that might just be because I was lying in an uncomfortable position).

 

“Seriously?” he asks as the last bits of darkness fade from the edges of the sheets. “Isn't that a little much, considering the broken rib and the concussion?”

 

Raven shrugs. “How about those phone towers?” she asks.

 

“Nothing. It's been almost a week, and there still aren't any signals. I'm kind of shocked that the--” he looks at me, and shuts his mouth. I guess that whatever he's shocked about isn't for my evil ears. “Starfire's thinking of flying out to the next county. Calling in some reinforcements.”

 

“It won't work,” I say. “We took down the entire police department, remember?”

 

Raven glares at me. Robin just looks embarrassed.

 

“Let's talk about this somewhere else,” he says. They leave the room, and I hear several locks clicking from the other side of the door. The floor and walls both seem to be wooden, and I don't even have any emergency pebbles on me. They've really covered all their bases.

 

I probably should have asked for a juice box or something. I have a feeling that I'm going to be here for a while.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly nobody is sure what's going on  
> it's kind of a mess  
> raven is not a very forgiving person and i love her so much


End file.
